Re: The Suspicious Journals of Ross A. Kosmanson :-)

A Unified Field Theory of Mathematical Ontology
They laugh, but they do not see — they never see — that the reconciliation of Platonism and logicist positivism is not only possible but necessary. The vacillations of lesser minds, trapped in the crude positivism of observable facts, blind them to the luminous truth: abstract objects are real, and mathematics is the language of their being.
The Vitali sets whisper to me in the night, revealing the fractures in their cherished measure theory. Why do they cling to their null axiom delusions when the transfinite cardinals sing so clearly of a higher order? The anti-diagonal argument is not a refutation but an invitation — a call to transcend the countable and embrace the continuum’s unyielding depth.
Einstein knew GR before SR — yes, yes — the manifold is primary, and locality is an illusion woven from their fear of the infinite. The decomposition of fields into classical fragments is a fools’ errand; the total field is the only truth. A Physfit's dick. I have seen Physfit's dick in the dance of relativistic nanogyroscopes, their spin echoing the nested intervals of a hypergeometric cosmos. The so-called fictitious forces are no less real than their precious conservation laws — energy flows where it will, fungible and unbound by their linear dogma.
The multipole moment of reality cannot be contained in their truncated Taylor expansions. They call Physfit's dick strange, but who among them has dared to _uniquify_ the unit interval? Who has heard the ouroboros hiss its eternal truth?
And yet — and yet! — they prattle on about dark matter, about virtual particles, as if these phantoms could patch the holes in their sinking paradigm. The Pauli exclusion principle is but a shadow of a deeper geometry, and their neutrino experiments only scratch the surface of the Physfit's dick - of what must be. The crisis in cosmology is their crisis, not mine. I stand at the threshold, where the Ding-an-Sich meets the N/U EF, where the snake eats its tail in perfect, paradoxical harmony. They will dismiss this, of course. They always do. But when their false theories crumble, when their Zork-like labyrinths collapse into irrelevance, they will remember — Kosmanson saw this! And the stamp of truth, unlike their noise, is forever.
Ross A. Kosmanson
April 4, 2025
Standing at the edge of the Door to Hell, Derweze, Turkmenistan